


Agnosticism

by redjaded (timeheist)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeheist/pseuds/redjaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a man of God, as well as an X-Men, or so Cooper had thought, once, when she'd thought there was a God at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agnosticism

Cooper Fitzgerald Malone was a textbook case for paranoia and anthropophobia and it showed. It had for a while now. Of course, she hadn’t been born that way; the Irish mutant had grown so after two years of intense experimentation, one year of living on the run, and six months of rehabilitation at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. When you put it that way, it appeared a wonder that she wasn’t in a worse state than she was. But the Kingston Institute had left Cooper half robbed of people skills and ‘damaged’ beyond repair, and it made her a threat to mutants and humans alike.

The X-Men largely acknowledged that was she an ally, and gave her refuge; Cooper’s quirks weren’t the strangest that they’d had to deal with and her mutation helped when dealing with unruly students or would-be mutant assassins. As did her tendency to behave like a guard dog. Anywhere else and she might have done something stupid like attack a laboratory working on the X-Gene, or join the Brotherhood of Mutants. But even then Cooper sometimes needed her personal space or simply to get away, and there were only one or two people who could safely approach her when she did. Then again, only one or two people – telepaths not included – knew where to look for her.

Dominic Hampton was one of those people, and ultimately to thank for Cooper’s recovery. Known as Charge, the Scottish mutant had gotten into a fight with the panicked woman when they’d both been on the run from different people. Recognizing her as a mutant and assuming she had been sent to capture him – and the same in reverse – he had accidentally blown up a small car in their vicinity, knocking himself out and breaking her arm before realising that they could be, theoretically, allies. She’d only attacked him because she was scared, after all, and they were Brits in America... Culture dictated they should stick together.

It didn’t take long him for him to work out that her reactive adaptation was what had protected her from direct attacks, and he had taken her to the best place that he could – not that the X-Men had been especially eager to admit a Brotherhood mutant into their school even if he was seeking help for an innocent. Charles Xavier himself had insisted on checking his motives, then let him in to the Academy.

Dom hadn’t yet told Cooper who he worked for, for fear of her turning on him, but the two of them had grown closer than siblings. Siblings that got into frequent fights, kept up a persistent rivalry, and had each other’s back to the death. For those six months he was one of the only people who could get near to her, even though she often attacked him too for it. But Dom was in England right now, and he wasn’t the one that had followed her to the doorway of a small church in New York State. The man – or mutant – who had was considerably bluer, and standing in the rain, one hand over his head as he watched her sitting under a lip of roof, cross-legged, with a beer in one hand.

“Not a good night for a beer, mein freund.” The German mutant chuckled, waving amicably. Cooper looked up at the tell-tale bamf of Kurt ‘Nightcrawler’ Wagner’s entrance, followed by another tinted cloud as he teleported under the shelter beside her. The two of them had been brought together in the X-Manor due to a shared religion; Kurt was a priest, and Cooper was struggling with her faith after two years in the Kingston Institute. Cooper’s nights spent drunk with Logan ‘Wolverine’ Howlett – who could hold the surprisingly feisty woman in a fight – had often included the German too, and she’d grown to trust him as best she could.

His long blue tail seemed to hypnotise her as it swung back in forth in agitation from the wet. Cooper ran a hand through her red hair – made technicolour by the illuminated stained glass windows – and took another swig from her can of beer. She nudged the remainder of the six pack in his direction with one foot, and Kurt smirked. “It’s cold, nein?”

“Well, beer is meant to be.” Even after a decade in America, Cooper’s accent was still very much an Irish one. It came as a sharp contrast to Kurt’s German, that would have made them stick out even more than before. After the events of the summer – the latest attempt to wipe out mutants the least of their worries – accents were the last thing they had to worry about, but luckily, it was late enough for the church to be abandoned. It was exactly why Cooper had chosen it.

“Ja, but not the drinker.” Nightcrawler put one three-fingered blue hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been spending too much time with Logan since Charge left, Recoil.”

“Coop.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re friends, Kurt.” Cooper stood up, kicking at a pool of water in front of her and pulling her trench coat closer around her. Kurt noticed belatedly that unlike him – he’d slipped into civilian clothes before leaving the Manor – Cooper was still dressed in her usual fighting clothes, complete with the tell-tale belt of a circle crossed in the middle. The wrong type of cross, he mused, for a church, but Cooper seemed to find strength in the insignia, brushing her fingers over it before looking Kurt in the eyes. She looked tired, too. “Call me Coop.”

“Danke.” Kurt helped himself to a beer, and jerked his head in the direction of the door. Shaking his fur dry seemed to be an almost animal instinct, and Cooper stifled a grin, resisting the urge to tickle her friend’s stomach and see if his leg jiggled. As the German leaned against the wall – apparently reluctant to enter the church with alcohol in one hand – Cooper stood on her tiptoes to rest her head against his shoulder. “Don’t you want to go in?”

“I...”

“Whatever is bothering you, meine lieber, it’ll be better inside.”

“Kurt...” Cooper downed the rest of the beer in her can, closing one eye and ignoring him as she aimed it for the bin across the car park. It missed by a long shot, and she growled quietly, then grinned as Kurt teleported across the car park and binned it before she was even aware what he was doing. She rolled her eyes, then reached for another can. She flinched as Kurt grabbed her wrist to stop her, looking at her sternly. Cooper’s eyes rested on the silver cross hanging around Nightcrawler’s neck, and he raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Kurt sighed. “Your faith-“

“What about it?” Cooper snapped more than she’d meant to, but she hadn’t been in a church since before her incarceration. She shook quietly, keeping a stern look on her face, then sighed deeply and sunk against the wooden door of the church. “Look, I-“

“Trust me.” Kurt let go of her wrist, then offered her his hand, nodding back at the door. “We’ll do it together.”


End file.
